


Incandescence

by skinnypunkrogers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (eventual service dogs), Autistic Dorcas, Baby Harry, Chronically ill Remus Lupin, Deaf Marlene, Disabled Remus Lupin, Familial Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, James and Lily are still dead sorry, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Service Dogs, Sirius raising Baby Harry, Tattoo Artist!Sirius, Tattoos, Trans Ted Tonks, baker!Remus, discussion of suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5205317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinnypunkrogers/pseuds/skinnypunkrogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus Lupin's body is broken and sick and covered in scars. But still he gets up every day, runs his bakery, and gets through. But he can't stand the stares, they get under his skin until one day frustration drives him into the tattoo parlor he passes every day, where he pleads for the tattoo artist behind the counter to cover them up. </p><p>Sirius Black has his life together, on the surface of things, but under the surface he is anxious and depressed, still reeling from the loss of his best friends, trying to raise his godson in the wake of their death. Then Remus comes into his tattoo shop. </p><p>And you know, maybe they both kind of definitely immediately develop a crush on one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aurora

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tumblr post http://loupetoile.tumblr.com/post/132768442628/remus-lupin-has-spent-a-total-of-seventeen-months 
> 
> Please don't be shy and leave me a comment! It's super encouraging!

Remus Lupin isn’t ever really _not_ in pain, he wakes up in pain, and he goes to sleep in pain, and if it were possible to be aware of it, he’d probably be in pain while he was sleeping, too. But it’s been like this for a long time, and some days it’s just a background noise that he’s grown used to over the years.   
  
He has had less good days like this since the accident a couple years ago, but if Remus Lupin is nothing else, he is stubborn. So he manages. He wakes up to the alarm and the throbbing notification that he is In Pain, and he manages to get out of bed before the sun is even up and get ready, while the Pain Alarm fades to a dull, irritating, background awareness.    
  
He doesn’t look at the mirror on the way to the shower, or on the way back out either, when he stops to take his medications. His aching body urges him to get back into bed, but he just gets his clothes out of his dresser and gets dressed. The constant emotional weight in his stomach, lighter some days than others, wants him to close the blinds and curl up in the couch corner. He just stiffly puts his shoes on, the scar tissue on his left shoulder tugging taut and uncomfortable while he ties them.  The repeated neon sign of _Pain_ throbbing from his left hip and knee urges him not to get up, but he grabs his cane, pats his pocket for his inhaler, and heads out the door.

 

Remus, stiff and slow at first but quickly working out the stiffness in his damaged muscles, just barely makes it to the bus stop to get a ride to work. Running a business and trying to finish putting himself through school, he finds time where he can, like bus rides. With his headphones on, he rolls up his sleeves and pores over the folder he brought with him full of his rough draft history paper. He scribbles out words here and there, circles mistakes. He blessedly misses the child on the opposite side of the bus staring at the mottled scarring on his his hand and forearm, the side of his neck, the soft pink one that runs nearly dead center across his nose and part of his cheeks.   
  
When his stop comes, and he looks up he makes momentary eye contact with the nearly teenage kid who at least has the good graces to look away guiltily. Remus swallows the urge to cringe, twitches his sleeves back down and shoves his folder back into his bag. Everything seems to hurt a little more, as if he’s suddenly more aware of it as he limps off the bus and heads up the sidewalk toward the bakery.   
  
Familiar and welcoming, the bakery is his second home, its windows of warm, gold light and baskets of bread, gentle brick exterior, even the now dust coated windows of his grandparent’s old flat on the floor above and the swaying wooden sign with the cliche image of the wolf silhouetted against the golden moon.  He sighs softly, feeling a little better, because soon he’ll be inside, where it’s warm and smells like bread and cake and chocolate and he has something to focus on all the time.

 

It already smells like rising dough and baking bread, and he takes a deep breath the second he steps in the door. “Marlene!” he calls out, shrugging off his coat to hang it up on the hook behind the door, then lifting the panel to go behind the counter. He doesn’t get an answer, and since he can hear Marlene in the kitchen, and she’s clearly already done her early morning work of putting the dough prepped last night into the ovens, he figures she just doesn’t have her hearing aids in.   
  
Leaning on his cane, trying with one hand to tie his apron strings behind his back, he looks for Marlene. He finds her in the back, rapidly braiding challah dough, and cups his hands around his mouth, “ _Marlene_!” she just barely hears him, or at least thinks she might hear him, so she turns around. She smiles when she sees him, signs hello and sorry, then holds his cane for him while he finishes tying his apron on. He makes the sign for coffee, and she points to the carafe that’s full already.  
  
Once he has a mug of coffee in hand, Remus feels a little more ready for the more taxing parts of running a bakery. He sits his coffee down, rolls up his sleeves, and joins Marlene at the heavy wooden counter liberally coated in flower. Marlene is always nice to have around, even when she does have her hearing aids in most of their conversations are in sign anyway, and the quiet is always companionable. She’s also strong, and fast, and never fails to get all the bread baked in the morning before they open.   
  
Once they finish making the challah dough, Remus goes to the cooler and gets the challah they didn’t sell yesterday. He pauses on his way back, rubbing the stiff ache in his shoulder, then sets about cutting the bread into cubes for bread pudding. Marlene has put her hearing aids in, and she calls from where she’s pulling out trays of croissants from the oven, “Gonna have to open late, cakes!” Remus understands that she means to get the days cakes made and baked first, they won’t be able to open exactly on time.   
  


“We’ll open as soon as they’re in the oven” He calls back, making sure to turn his head and pitch his voice louder when he does, “Nobody gets cake at breakfast anyway”  
  
She gives him a thumbs up, and moves to the next oven.   
  
He throws the bread puddings together, gets them in the oven, and then enlists Marlene to help him haul out the mixers. They aren’t the huge ones that bigger bakeries use, but he can only do so much with his shoulder. With the weather turning cold, and the holidays coming up, they’ve already started putting out fruitcake, pumpkin and peppermint recipes. fruitcake cupcakes, pumpkin pie cake and cupcakes, and Remus tries something new and manages a peppermint bark cake that Marlene immediately says has to be a new regular thing every holiday season.   
  
Giving in to his and Marlene’s own cravings, respectively, he makes a black forest cake, and lavender cupcakes. The day’s special selections all in the oven, he and Marlene finish getting out everything premade from the night before, fill up the display cases and baskets, and unlock the door.   
  
Window display lights on, and OPEN sign lit, Remus dusts the flour off his hands and stands for a moment admiring his handy work. The _Pain_ sign is still flashing obnoxiously in the back of his mind, and exhaustion comes in waves, driving him to sit down on the stool behind the register until the timer beeps. Marlene leans on the counter nearby him, texting on her phone. She taps his arm to get his attention, so he looks at her and she signs to him about something Dorcas said. He nods at her, signs back and tries not to focus on how much his left side hurts. But the ache is deep and harsh and has settled in to stay.   
  
He takes an extra painkiller and pours another cup of coffee. Marlene minds the register for him when the timers go off and he has to run (well, clumsily hurry) to pull them all out of the oven in time. He stacks them on the rack, wheels them into the cooler and stands in it for a moment. He rests his weight on the cold, metal door, letting the chill seep into all his aches and takes a deep breath. Then another.  

 

He focuses on the smell of sweets and bread and chocolate, rolls his shoulders and stretches. He can do this, he’s done it before. He breaks off a piece of the peppermint bark and eats it slowly, then sighs. He’s got this.  
  
He totes out everything he needs for toppings and frostings, then gets to work. Marlene runs the register, occasionally jogging back to ask him to come and translate for her when someone has trouble understanding her, while he makes what he needs and tops the cakes. They all go into the chill display with the other every day items, and he and Marlene have the cakes they were craving for breakfast.   
  
They take two orders for that week, a ridiculously large order of margarita cupcakes for a bachelorette party, gluten free cupcakes for a kids birthday party, and, as one of the few jewish bakeries in the area that will make a kosher wedding cake, he sets up an appointment for that afternoon for him and Dorcas to meet with the couple and talk designs. It exhausts him, sure, being busy. But he’s happier now that he’s running the bakery and busy every day than he has been in years.   
  
Once the lunch rush ends, Marlene’s shift ends, and Dorcas comes in to take over for her. Remus gets through the rest of the day, with more cake for lunch and it would have been for dinner too if Marlene hadn’t come back to see her girlfriend with take out for all three of them as soon as closing time came around. Remus eats gratefully, usually unaware of his hunger or need for _proper_ food until presented with it. Marlene sticks around, since she and Dorcas have plans, and so the night time clean up and prep gets finished double quick.  
  
After making plans for how to handle the bachelorette party order in a few days, they go their separate ways. Marlene and Dorcas, unlike Remus, still have enough energy to go and do things, so Remus bids them goodbye, and makes for his bus stop. He still has his apron on, his sleeves pushed up and flour streaks at his temples, and he slumps into an empty seat like his legs can’t bare the thought of supporting him anymore.  
  
He feels someone watching him, and instantly he prickles on the defensive. He doesn’t see who it is, and he isn’t about to just look around for the source of it, but he eyes his forearm, the scar from write to elbow, the pinpricks of stitches on either side, the huge, ugly mottled silvery-pink patch right in the middle from the skin graft. He jerks his sleeves down and turns up the collar of his shirt and closes his eyes for the rest of the ride. He thinks about that tattoo parlor he passes on the way from work to the bus stop.

 

  
His bed and the dark welcome him with open arms, and he tries not to think too hard about doing it again tomorrow.

 

\-----

 

For all intents and purposes, it looks like Sirius Black has got his life together. Which is, admittedly, absolutely shocking, especially to him because he knows that he most certainly does _not_ actually have any of his shit anywhere near together. But sometimes you fake it ‘till you make it, and he’s trying really really hard to make it.   
  
Not really for his own sake, if it were just him he probably would have given into the gravitational pull of the downward spiral that he always feels swirling like a drain at the back of his mind. But he’s got this… little problem. Little, sleepy, crying, green-eyed problem.   
  
Sirius glances at the baby monitor on his bed side table, sighs and rubs his face, then gets up and goes to get Harry out of his crib in the nursery. It wasn’t _going_ to be a nursery, Sirius muses even as he goes through the now automatic motion of changing his godson and dressing him, it was going to be the crash room. His friends would stay too late, be too drunk, or just damn well not want to go home, and would always have a place to go if he had any say in it.

 

And then the day came that he woke up and the two people he loved most in the world were gone and nothing in the world felt like it could keep him from drowning in how much that hurt. Except… well, Harry didn’t have anybody either, except Lily’s miserable excuse for family, that sister of hers and her awful husband. They didn’t even come to the funeral, and it was clear they wanted nothing to do with Harry either.   
  
Sirius had been named godfather, and so when James and Lily died, Harry inherited all they had, and Sirius inherited Harry. Somehow it feels like it just happened, and feels like he’s been doing this for years at the same time. Six months now, and Sirius has been with Harry through every milestone from thirteen to nineteen months, and he feels like the most unprepared parent ever, but it’s a thing he does now. He knows all the tricks (thanks to Andromeda and Pinterest), he knows all Harry’s likes and dislikes and moods, and Harry seems to have adapted to Sirius as the parental figure.   
  
They get by, Sirius works and he loves his job, he’s close with the family that deserves it, especially Andromeda and her husband and daughter, since he and Andromeda both own the tattoo shop. Regulus has gone to college, and without their parents influence constantly hanging over him, sometimes he manages to see Sirius for lunch. Sirius’ friends still come hang out, he and Dorcas have a standing lunch date every Saturday, the same as they did when Sirius still went to university with her, Peter is there every weekend when he comes home from uni in Manchester, and Frank and Alice literally live in his building, he works with Frank.  
  
He _should_ for all intents and purposes, be okay.  
  
He knows that he isn’t. That he flinches away from news stories about car crashes, that he’s had so many nightmares about crashes in storms that he gets anxious whenever it rains, that for months he had cyclical continuous thoughts about the possibility of an afterlife and the obsessive desire to see it, and that he needs the neat little row of three pill bottles sitting in the medicine cabinet to manage as well as he does.   
  
If it weren’t for Harry, he supposes, as he sits the boy in his high chair and sleepily shuffles through the kitchen to make him breakfast, he probably wouldn’t be managing much at all. Harry is very intently telling him a story, and clearly the kid knows what he’s saying, even if to Sirius it’s all nonsense word-sounds, but he nods along anyway, slumped over his coffee. But, with Harry, things aren’t all bad. Things, maybe, are even pretty good. He takes an extra minute just to watch his happy godson kicking his feet and trying too hard to eat his scrambled eggs and dumping most of them onto the floor for the dog to eat.  Sirius just gives Harry the last of his, washes his plate and the high chair tray, and lets Harry run around with Padfoot while he gets dressed for work.   
  
Once he has Harry’s (very stylish, thank you very much) diaper bag packed, Sirius shoves his feet into his boots and bundles Harry up in probably one too many layers. He kind of looks like a dad you’d see in a magazine catalog, in his skinny jeans and nice boots, and the fashionably scuffed leather jacket, his hair in a bun. Except the catalogs usually leave out things like sleepless dark circles, the bit of scrambled egg in the baby’s hair, and the mystery stain on the strap of the diaper bag. But, you know, close enough.   
  
Harry on his hip, Padfoot’s leash in the other, he walks to work, still thinking about how Not Bad his life is. He can walk to work in the span of fifteen minutes, his (god)son and his dog both get to go to work with him, at the business he half owns mind you, every day, and every day on his way to work he passes a bakery that always smells like the best fresh bread.    
  
This train of thought continues as he gets to work and greets his favorite cousin, and his favorite littler cousin whose hair this month is very pink (Nymphadora might hate her name, but she loves her mom, who lets her do cool things like dye her hair whenever she wants to), and lovingly insults one of his very best friends, who he also works with. There is a big, open space behind the counter of the shop, with chairs for lounging about (for his and Andromeda’s friends, but mostly for Nymphadora and Harry) and in this space, strangely enough, is an okay sized inflatable pool full of baby toys.  
  
Harry goes in this, where he immediately attempts to run around and falls down, laughing uproariously at himself. Padfoot settles down outside the improvised playpen, and Sirius watches Harry playing for a moment, then goes to find out when his first client is due. Things are good, and today he can see that, which makes things even better.

 

This feeling continues through the day, this ability to see the good in his life, which is why he’s maybe slightly taken aback when a customer practically storms in with tears on his face. Sirius’ heart is tender, he knows this, and without even knowing what’s wrong yet he really, really wants to fix it. Frank’s on lunch and Andromeda is with a client, so Sirius is the one that gets up to approach the counter. “Hey,” Sirius says, voice already soothing, wondering if maybe this guy got an awful tattoo somewhere else and came to get it fixed. It’s happened before. “You okay? How can we help.”  
  
For a split second, upon seeing the huge black dog and the two kids playing behind the counter, whoever this is seems slightly less upset. But it only lasts a second, and then he strips off the big, knitted sweater he’s wearing over a white tee-shirt and thrusts a scar covered forearm into Sirius’ view, indicating his scarred throat with the other. “Just-- I don’t care what you do, I just want them covered up. I just want them gone.”  
  


 _Oh._ Sirius hesitates as it sinks in for a second, the guy in front of him is probably his own age or somewhere near it, he’s got tears in his eyes but his jaw is stubbornly set even though he won’t quite look Sirius in the face. His arm and hand on the left side are a myriad of scars, the side of his neck and the bit of that shoulder Sirius can see are the same, he has one across his nose (which is _endlessly_ charming, Sirius can’t help but think, but Sirius has always thought things like scars and crooked noses gaps in teeth are charming and adorable) and even his right forearm has a smaller, neater scar where it was stitched up at some point.   
  
Sirius thinks about covering them up, about not ever knowing they were there unless you look really closely, hiding all these reminders that whatever the world has thrown at him he survived.  He _really_ wants to help this boy, who is already covered in a story Sirius wants to know, who smells like chocolate and fresh bread and has gold-brown eyes too stubborn to actually cry. But he can’t imagine covering the scars, he wouldn’t want to, and the hesitation must show on his face.   
  
The guy lets out a breath in a sigh and steps back, folding suddenly in on himself, self conscious. He turns his sweater right side out with shaking hands and goes to put it back on, “Sorry,” He mumbles, his voice a little shaky, “Nevermind, I didn’t mean to-- barge in, you probably can’t cover them up anyway, I-”  
  
“Hey, hey, wait no,” Sirius tells him gently, lifting the panel and coming around the counter, tentatively reaching a hand out, “Let me look. I didn’t say that I couldn’t,” The boy blinks at him, slightly suspicious and he _really_ obviously doesn’t want to let Sirius look at his scars anymore, but if he wants this done he has to. So he shrugs his sweater back off again and lets Sirius do what he needs to do. Sirius takes his forearm first, turns it over and only touches the scars for a second, before he sees the twitch in his jaw and stops, “It’s just… _why_? Covering them up ruins the story.” Remus scoffs, because he can’t help it, _story_? What story, car crashes and hospital stays and infection and his life falling apart? “No I mean-- “ Sirius sighs, his face turns pink, so some of Remus’ anger fades away, “You’re not just, a-a _story_ I know it’s your _life_ it’s just… but they’re. They’re like line work” Sirius’ voice gets a little softer, and suddenly Remus is endlessly charmed by him, his voice is so soft and honest and maybe even a little reverent.  “They lend themselves to being. You shouldn’t hide them, you should work with them. Look.”  
  
Hesitating, until he knows Remus is going to let him, Sirius touches the scars on his forearm again. Fingers slide over the silvery place where the skin graft was, “The moon,” tap at the round places where the sutures went in, the line down the middle “Stars, a galaxy flow”  
  
Remus’s stomach flips, his face gets warm, and his skin prickles where Sirius is touching him. Everyone who tries to help tries to make him feel good about himself _despite_ the scars, and now there is this tattoo artist he doesn’t even know who kind of makes him feel like a work of art _because_ of them.

  
(an admittedly _gorgeous_ tattoo artist with the greyest eyes he’s ever seen, which is maybe weird? Because he definitely is of some sort of Asian descent and oh. Remus might have been staring too long, wait)

 

Uh-oh, Remus was caught up in this thought for too long, because very gently fingertips press against the scar on the side of his throat and his pulse immediately seems to race up to meet them. “the edges make me think of flower petals,” Sirius moves back out of his personal space a little, and Remus feels like he can breathe again, he swallows tightly.   
  
The tattoo artist offers him his hand and a shy smile, raising one shoulder in a shrug, “I’m Sirius,” He offers, “You wanna come sit down and we’ll talk designs?”

 


	2. Syzygy (an alignment of celestial bodies)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Sirius are so gone for each other, its kind of ridiculous. They have breakfast together, and banter through text messages.

Remus hadn’t even planned on going to the tattoo shop, he really hadn’t. It had been a pretty bad day, all things considered, a bad day for pain, a bad day for depression, just bad in general. The shop had been busy,and Remus was exhausted just trying to keep his head afloat until Dorcas came in at lunch and he could take a break. He had gone to leave, and people were _staring_ at him because he didn’t have his sweater on, and maybe if it had only been that he would have been fine.

But he got lunch, and the server was patronizingly eager to help him to his table even when Remus insisted he was fine. Two other people blatantly staring on his way back drove him to a fit of insecurity, rage and hurt feelings, and drove him into the tattoo parlor. He’s still kind of embarrassed at the entrance that he made, actually. But it worked out. Things usually do in the end, for Remus, even if it seems like he’s a goner at first.

The tattoo artist is kind, eager to help him in a way that doesn’t patronize (not to mention gorgeous). For a little while, Remus feels … _good_. He feels like _art_.

So Remus leaves almost an hour later, feeling strangely light as he glances over his shoulder and smiles at Sirius one last time. He even still has the stencil of the first one he wants to get on the side of his neck and he catches sight of it in the shop windows and he can picture what it’s going to be like. He smiles at himself, for once. He has to get back to the bakery, and Sirius has an appointment for that afternoon, otherwise he would have immediately gotten it.

As it is, they’ve worked out a payment plan, and Remus is going to see Sirius every Wednesday for a session until he’s satisfied. He turns his phone over in his hand, Sirius’ number is in it, and he asked Sirius if he could maybe text him design ideas for the scars they didn’t get to sometime and Remus _really_ didn’t expect to come out of there with a crush but life is what it is and he can’t stop smiling.

It buoys him up all day, gets him through the crush with a smile on his face, and when Sirius texts him later to ask him how he feels about jellyfish, Remus can’t even feel annoyed about the hundred and twenty cupcakes he and Dorcas have to knock out before they can go home. He tells Sirius he likes them, but he’d have to see the design, and Sirius almost immediately sends him back a picture of a sketch he’d already been working on.

Remus leans on the counter, since all he and Dorcas have to do now is wait for the cupcakes to bake, smiling to himself and texts him back.

_You’re not spending your free time thinking about tattooing me are you?_

**_What._ **  
**_No._ **  
**_I mean_ **  
**_Maybe_ **  
**_Yes_ **

  
_That’s okay, i’m spending my free time thinking about you tattooing me anyway._

He immediately feels shy once he sends it, and he decides to play it off with a question he’d been wondering about all day

_Hey, you don’t happen to walk past a place called Wolf Moon Bakery on your way to work do you?_

**_What?_ **  
**_How do you know that?_ **

_come in tomorrow._

  
**_??? okay_ **

Remus smiles to himself, looking up and around his familiar kitchen. Dorcas is sitting at the counter, repeatedly rolling a ball of dough, tearing it and braiding it and kneading it, chewing on the edge of her shirt and swaying a little. Their old stereo is playing in the corner, the bakery smells like cake and tequila and Remus doesn’t hurt that bad right now. He sighs in a content sort of way when the timers go off, and he and Dorcas work together to move the cupcakes to the walk-in to cool.

 

Dory goes back to stimming quietly, and Remus rubs a kink out of his shoulder before checking his phone again,

  
**_You’re going to be there right?_**  
**_I mean I figured you would be because you said something_**

  
_I’ll be there_  
_I own it, actually_

**_Really?_ **

_Inherited it, yeah._  
_Um._  
_You were just so nice to me today I thought i’d try and do something nice so come by tomorrow morning okay?_

**_Okay, absolutely  
I co-own the shop, did you know? _ **

_Really? High fives for us young business owners_

**_Hah. A high five emoji, really?_ **

_It’s appropriate why do you hate fun_

**_I do not hate fun!_ **  
****_But, really, yes._  
My cousin Andromeda owns the other half. She was tired of having to work her family in around someone elses hours and convinced me to go in with her  
I mean she still acts like she’s in charge though 

_So it’s a family business? Were those her kids?_

**_oh um_ **

Remus gets concerned for a moment. Sirius definitely is taking a while to text him back, and Remus was pretty sure that Sirius had been flirting back with him today, but now he’s worried maybe he read the situation wrong. Does Sirius have a family?

**_Um okay here’s the thing_ **  
**_The little girl is Andromeda’s daughter Nymphadora, but Harry is mine._ **  
**_Kind of. He’s my best friends’ kid_ **  
**_but um_ **

**_They died_ **

**_So I uh have a kid now?_ **

 

It takes Remus a moment to register this, and figure out how to respond. Sirius lost his best friends, and stepped up in the wake of that kind of tragedy to raise their son. Remus really hopes that Sirius likes him, because Remus likes Sirius probably way too much.

_Wow._

It isn’t the response he wanted to give, but he’s still kind of shell shocked

**_Yeah._ **  
**_So, i mean._ **  
**_I know the whole single dad schtick can kind of be_ **  
**_off putting sorry_ **

_What! no no I just._  
_um._  
_I keep thinking you’re uh_  
_Kind of amazing actually_

_**oh.** _  
_**oh wow.** _  
_**gosh.** _  
_**Please tell me more about how amazing you t hink I am ** _

_**I mean.** _  
_**Cos I kinda maybe think you’re pretty amazing too** _

Remus sees the messages after he and Dory tediously ice and decorate all the cupcakes, and he flares red from his nose to his neck and smiles like an idiot at his phone for a really long time. Dory actually has to get his attention and he blushes even more, “I’m telling Marlene you have a crush on the tattoo boy” Dorcas tells him, grinning, and Remus just calls back to her “That’s _fine_ because I totally _do_!” They box up the cupcakes and put them in the cooler, ready to be picked up come tomorrow. He and Dory clean up, lock up and head their separate ways to go home. Once on the bus, he texts Sirius back, finally.

  
_I’ll see you tomorrow, right?_

**_Bright and early_ **

_Good_

 

\-----

It’s too early to be both early and bright when Remus wakes up in the morning, but it’s always like that in the winter. He hardly ever sees the sun anymore, but he can’t spend much time in the sun thanks to his lupus anyway and knowing that Sirius is going to come by the bakery this morning sits under the surface of his skin like sunbeams.

I mean, it might make his heart feel a little lighter, but the rest of him still hurts like hell. It actually takes him longer than some days to make it out of bed, since not only is it his broken left side hurting him today, but seemingly every joint in his body. He sighs, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands for a moment, bracing himself.

Eventually, satisfied he’s given himself long enough, he gets up and limps heavily to shower. His breakfast is a cup of tea and a handful of pills, and he might spend a little extra time picking out the sweater that looks best, and getting his hair to lay just right. There’s frost on the ground this morning, and he knows that frost is going to mean ice later, which is just trouble waiting to happen. He grips his cane a little tighter on his way to the bus stop. It’s way too early for Sirius to be up, most logical people who don’t have to be at work before sun up, but Remus texts him and asks him what his favorite muffins are anyway.

Marlene asks if he actually ate this morning, then shoves one of their huge breakfast muffins into his hands when he just looks at her sheepishly. He grins crookedly at her, but doesn’t tell her he feels too achey and sick to eat it. He makes himself eat it anyway, because it helps to have food in his stomach, and this way his medications don’t make him so nauseous in the mornings. Remus feels his phone buzz in his pockets when he’s pulling that day’s dessert selections out of the oven and his heart skips several beats.

He is so gone, this is so bad.

**_This is an unholy hour, and you texted me TWO HOURS ago_ **

_I’m a morning person._  
_Well. I am now that I run the bakery._

**_I thought adjusting to Harry’s schedule was bad. At least he doesn’t get up before the sun does._ **  
**_Banana nut, by the way, with chocolate chips_ **

Their banana muffins actually don’t have chocolate chips, but Remus figures he has a little while to spare, and makes a small batch specifically. Then he gets slightly distracted when they get a call from the woman who ordered the gluten free cupcakes for her kids party. The date’s been changed, and Remus informs Marlene they’re gonna have to find a way to fit them into the schedule for today so she can pick them up tonight.

Marlene rolls her eyes, and makes a scratching motion over her right shoulder with her right hand, _annoyed_!

Remus nods his agreement and returns the sign. They decide to push back opening by about twenty minutes, if they hurry, they can have the cupcakes cooling by then. Remus stretches, wincing a little. All his joints feel creaky and sore, and he cracks his knuckles, rubs them, touches lightly with his tongue at the place inside his mouth that feels like it might turn to a sore any minute.

Remus knows that generally when it comes to his lupus he’s really damn lucky, he only gets flare-ups every few months, and in between them he usually just has some joint aches and gets sick a lot more often than more people. He’s lucky and he knows it, he has friends in the support group way worse than him, so he tries not to get too bitter and angry when he can feel a flare-up coming on.

But it’s frustrating, he has things to do, and he knows that if it’s bad enough he’ll need someone to come help him for a few days. His friends never mind, and sometimes his mom will come down if he’s really bad. He rubs his face, then looks at his reflection in his dark phone screen. He looks like he’s blushing, and he knows by this time tomorrow he’s going to have the sunburn-like rash all over both cheekbones and his nose. Remus leans his hip on the counter and sighs, mentally taking stock of what needs done. The wedding cake is two months out, which is good, because it’s a hell of a project and as soon as he’s done decorating these cupcakes the two big orders will be covered. If it gets really tough, Marlene and Dory will take over and work doubles if they need to while he sleeps through the pain. He takes another pain killer, sighs, and shakes his head.

If it’s gonna get to him, it can get to him later, he has things to finish and pretty tattoo boys to charm with baked goods.

He smiles to himself, and thinks to check his phone.

**_awake._ **  
**_officially._ **  
**_Please tell me you have breakfast for me because dry cheerios might be fine for the kid, but it does not cut it for me_ **

**_I_ ** _have breakfast for you._  
_Sorry you’ve gotta get out of bed extra early for this_

**_I have this feeling its gonna be worth it._ **  
**_I just gotta get Harry dressed_ **

_Don’t rush, i’ve got two dozen cupcakes to put cat faces on_

Remus feels a large margin better, emotionally, and smiles as he gets to work cutting out tiny cat faces made of chocolate and delicately sitting them aside to put on the cupcakes after he tops them with the marshmallow frosting. He loses himself in the work, in the tiny happy candle flame that is the knowledge that Sirius is coming soon to see him.

He has the piping bag full of the meringue frosting in one hand and is working on topping them when Marlene calls him. So caught up in his work, he forgets that it might be Sirius, and comes out still with frosting in hand and sleeves up, his hair pinned back at the sides with little clips borrowed from Marlene and flour on his apron.

“What’s up, Marly?” He asks her when he comes out, voice pitched louder than it would usually be to make sure she hears. He goes even redder under the flush that’s starting to bloom across his face when he sees Sirius standing inside, the toddler in a sling and a huge black dog outside looking sullenly through the window. “Oh,” he says a little breathlessly, because Sirius is standing there looking like the worlds hottest Hot Dad, in skinny jeans and a white v-neck henley with the top few buttons undone, a leather jacket and skinny jeans bunched into a pair of black boots with wings on the heels. His hair is down today, and it’s longer than Remus expected, it curls gently at the ends that rest against his ribcage, the top is covered with a beanie and he grins at Remus as easy as anything.

“Hey,” Sirius says, adjusting Harry a little in the sling that keeps him against his chest. The baby seems inclined to go back to sleep. “Sorry it took a little longer than expected.” He seems suddenly a little shy, scuffing the toe of his boot, and Remus realizes he’s just been staring. He clears his throat pointedly, and hands the piping bag to Marlene. He signs to her what he’s doing, and she gets it at once, but she also secretly mocks him about “The tattoo boy” and he shoos her off with his face red as a beet.

Remus shrugs a little, “sorry,” He murmurs, but then he can’t help but smile back because Sirius smiles at him, and he grabs the muffins he made from under the counter and comes around the counter to get nearer to Sirius. He doesn’t have his cane, and he moves stiffer than he’d like, but Sirius doesn’t dote or worry, he just nods his head to the table outside.

“Do you have time to come sit down with us a while? I um. Might have told Andromeda I wouldn’t be in until lunch”

Remus turns red at that, again, but he’s delighted by the proposition. Sirius _wants_ to spend time with him!

“Sure, can I meet your dog?” he asks at once, his eyes lighting up as he limps to the door just behind Sirius. Sirius holds the door open for him, but doesn’t offer to help him. He can see it might be a little harder for Remus than others, but he also knows he can do it himself, and the hard light in his eyes, stubborn determination, says that the offer would be harshly rejected.

Remus drops heavily into one of the black iron chairs and immediately opens his hands for Padfoot to come greet him. The Newfoundland does at once, ears back and tail tucked sideways but wagging a mile a minute. He puts one big paw on Remus’ leg to lean in for better purchase, and Remus winces at the shock of pain, but he just ruffles the huge, furry creature, then hugs him burying his face in his fur. “ _dog_ ” he whispers happily, rubbing his face in the soft black fur and getting a very wet kiss along his jaw in return.Remus loves dogs.

“Okay you can leave goodbye go home leave me the dog,” He tells Sirius, his raised voice muffled in the giant dogs ruff. Sirius laughs, and wow thats a nice sound, Remus looks up at him from where he is, smiling and Sirius thinks suddenly that his eyes look like good, good whisky and feels a stupid, warm softness that he wants to feel more of. Sirius is real, real gone for this boy.

He sits down, a lot more gingerly than Remus, because Harry definitely has fallen asleep in the baby sling.

“His name is Padfoot,” Sirius tells him, while he gets out one of the muffins to taste. “He’s a good boy.”

Remus definitely agrees with this, while he plays with Padfoot and gets to pet and love him. The newfie is just as happy sitting still while Remus hugs him as he is carefully rough housing.

Remus is in love with Sirius’ dog, and he has the thought _I hope i get to date him, because dog_. He hides his blushing face in Padfoot again.

“oh my _god_ ” Remus looks up at the nearly orgasmic sound that comes out of Sirius’ mouth, his blush flaring all the way up to his ears. Sirius has torn off a bite of the muffin that he had gotten out to eat, and for a second he looks at Remus in awe. Sirius considers asking Remus to marry him right there and bake for him every day, “I could _live_ on these.” He tells Remus urgently, and Remus absolutely lights up, it makes Sirius feel like his perspective shifts, a sudden drop. He smiles back.

“Really? You like them that much?” Remus asks him sheepishly, fiddling with Padfoot’s fur, “My Bubbe taught me to make banana muffins when I was like, eight. I’ve made a lot of them, I guess I’m desensitized to how great they are.”

“Do you usually eat what you bake? have you had one of these in a while?”  Remus shrugs, shakes his head, then turns pink.

“I eat what i bake but… usually just the sweet stuff, chocolate mostly. We don’t normally put chocolate in those but i-- you said you liked it so.”

Sirius breaks off a bit of muffin with long, slender fingers (Remus notices his fingernails are painted a rich wine red) and holds it out to Remus, near to his mouth. Remus’ heart flips over.

 _oh no_. Without thinking, he does lean forward and opens his mouth and gently plucks it from between his slender fingers. He sees Sirius’ pupils blow wide and tries not to think about it. Sirius is right, besides, these things are great and he makes a note to offer them from now on. He makes a low groan of muted pleasure. Sirius’s fingers move quickly back from his face and settle back on the table.

“I’m putting chocolate in all of them. In everything. Forever.” Sirius chuckles at him, and Remus wants to make him do that more. He hopes he does. He clears his throat, fiddles with his sweater sleeves.

“I just. Thought maybe i’d try and return the kindness you know? you were-” he hesitates, for a second, looking for the words “so good to me, I just stormed in your shop yesterday and demanded you fix me. It was so rude. God i’m so embarrassed, I just. It… had been a bad day.”

Sirius puts a hand over his hand and Remus kind of feels like maybe something in him has come alive and lit up, glowing steady and strong.

“You don’t have to explain, you don’t have to apologize, don’t be silly. Some things you can’t stand to look at anymore, you know? Even metaphorically.”

Remus blinks at Sirius, and he wonders what metaphorical scars Sirius has to live with seeing every day. He just quirks the corner of his mouth up in a sheepish smile, “Did you bring your sketchbook like you said? I want to see.”

Sirius smiles brightly at him and carefully gets a big, ink stained book out of the diaper bag he carries. He manages to do this, get his copics out, and carefully slide his seat halfway round the table so he and Remus are much closer without so much as jostling the sleeping baby in the sling and Remus might love him a little bit.

He shows Remus some designs he has in mind, a sketch of Remus’ arm from memory, scars and all is nearly perfect, and he shows Remus how he would lay out the galaxy tattoo there. An idea for the octopus that’s going to cover his entire thigh. They could sit there all day, honestly, Sirius talking designs and funny customers, Remus telling him about  _why_ he can’t stand them and delighting every time Sirius comes up with a new, beautiful way to fix his body. He feels a semblance of control for once.

Remus gets distracted by Padfoot several times, just delving back into petting and ruffling him, and the dog bangs his huge tail against the legs of their chairs and puts his big, wide head in Remus’ lap in adoration.

“He really likes you,” Sirius laughs after the third or fourth time, and Remus smiles and looks up at him. Gosh, Sirius wishes Remus smiled like that more. Usually they’re half smiles, no teeth, shy. But then sometimes he forgets himself and smiles like sunshine.

“I really like him! I love dogs, but I couldn’t have one growing up. I’ve been thinking about getting one, but I… have so much trouble getting around that… “ he shrugs, “Maybe an old dog, one who doesn’t walk too much. They were thinking about giving me an assistance dog, you know, after the accident but I was so stubborn back then, I didn’t want any help. I didn’t even want my cane, but-” 

He hesitates, a strange look has flashed across Sirius’ face and he swallows tightly, “Did I-- what did I say? Did I say something?” 

Sirius shrugs, shakes his head, “It was an accident? what kind?” 

Puzzled, Remus murmurs, “A … car accident… two years ago.” 

Sirius’ lips turn in as he bites them, some of the color in his already pale face has faded. He takes a deep breath, nods, “That’s how Harry’s parents died. I hate cars.”

Remus nods, considers for a moment, “Yeah, fuck cars.” 

That startles a laugh out of Sirius, and the sudden painful tension starts to ebb away. Remus tells Sirius a little more, not about the accident, but about the recovery, about how even before the accident he got weird looks because of his lupus flare ups and missed a bunch of school, and missed out on stuff because of his asthma.

Sirius tells him about James and Lily, a little, and a little bit about his home life. But he’s pretty closed off about that, he praises his experience at art school, his cousins, the shop, and Harry. They work on more tattoo designs, 

Harry wakes up and Remus meets him, they have a very one sided conversation while Harry does his best to talk to Remus. They talk until Marlene comes out, hands on her hips. “Lunch!” Remus stares at her dumbfounded, then he and Sirius both rapidly grope for their phones.

It is time for the lunch rush, Remus hurries up, gathers his apron and gives Padfoot one last loving, rough pet. He smiles at Sirius, suddenly shy. He knows he wants to hug him or kiss him goodbye but he also knows this wasn’t a date and this is not the time. 

“bye,” He says a little breathlessly, smiling because Sirius is smiling, “See you Wednesday?”

“ See you Wednesday,” Sirius agrees and grips his hand for a second, before they hurry back to their respective jobs. Pain or no pain, emotionally Remus is on top of the world. Sirius, for his part, finds it a lot easier to resist the drain pull of depression and fear at the back of his brain. He thinks maybe the sun is a little closer to rising again.


	3. Ephemera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has a lupus flareup, but somewhere amid the pain and the sickness, he ends up agreeing to let Sirius come over--but only on one condition. They call it a date.

Marlene spends the rest of her shift teasing him about the tattoo boy, and then Dory takes over for her when she comes in. Remus doesn’t even _care_ , he smiles through it all good naturedly. He’s glad that it’s Dory there for the afternoon, though, because the longer he’s on his feet and working, the worse he’s starting to feel. Marlene watches him like a hawk, she always has, they’ve been friends since primary school and she’s had plenty of time to know just what Remus looks like when he’s running himself into the ground

Dory doesn’t often look people in the face, and tends to miss inflection, so she doesn’t notice anything might be off. Remus is pretty good at faking, by now, a worse liar might have gotten caught anyway. He bids Dory goodnight, and begins the seemingly insurmountable journey back to his flat.

 

He gets home and immediately strips off his coat and sweat damp clothes for a bath, hoping to soak away some aches and sweat out some of the fever. He shivers despite the warmth, and sits hugging his knees in the middle of the tub. It only makes him feel marginally better, and it’s a slow stiff process to get into his pajamas.

 

He should text Dory and Marlene tonight, tell them he won’t be in tomorrow, but Remus is stubborn and he kind of hopes that this will pass in his sleep. Once in his bed he’s too tired to even reach to turn off the lamp, and just covers his eyes with one arm. His phone buzzes, and he sighs heavily and ignores it for a while, but it buzzes a second time and he rolls over and reaches for it.  
  
First is Marlene “closing took longer than usual, are you feeling okay?”, Remus considers, then guiltily ignores it. The other one is Sirius, and despite how low he feels, there is a weak butterfly flutter in his stomach.

 

**Seeing you today was really nice**

 

Remus considers, he’s so tired, he wants to just go to sleep, but he can’t stand the thought of ignoring Sirius. Marlene is one thing, they’ve been friends _forever_ , and she knows if he’s feeling bad he’s probably sleeping, and even if she does think he’s ignoring her, then she’ll just rib him about it tomorrow. Sirius, on the other hand, doesn’t know him so well, and might worry that Remus doesn’t want to talk to him.

 

Thinking about it, he’s already starting to doze, but his phone buzzes again and he jumps.

 

**Um  
Maybe I could stop in tomorrow and pick up something for everybody at the shop**

 

Here Remus sighs again, he knows he has to admit defeat at this point

 

 _I wont be there but you can still go, Marlene will be there_ he sends reluctantly

_i’m sorry_

 

**Oh. Okay. Day off?**

 

_um. Not… willingly, but yeah_

 

**Are you okay?**

 

_Will be, i’m just having a flareup._   
_We’re closed for the weekend, at least._   
_Monday?_

**Can I do anything to help?**

 

Remus smiles at that, and since he’s too tired and achey to sit up and turn off the lamp, he reaches down and just yanks the cord out of the wall. He bundles up under his covers and rolls over, taking advantage of the last tolerable moments he’s going to have for a few days, at least.

 

_Marlene will figure out what’s going on and come over and yell at me/take care of me. I should be okay_

_I’m sorry I won’t get to see you this weekend_

 

 **I could come check on you, too, I wouldn’t mind**  
**I mean, i just want you to be okay**  
 **I hope i’m not being invasive**  
  
Remus falls asleep before he sees those, unfortunately, because when he wakes up in the morning it’s an hour before his alarm is set to go off and it’s because of a throbbing, neon, sun-bright pulse of _pain, pain, pain_. Every joint in his body is stiff and painful, his usual aches seem amplified, he’s feverish and flushed and the second he opens his eyes he closes them again and tears cling to his lashes.

 

He sighs out a long shaky breath, his entire body trembling and tense.  He gropes for his phone, because he’s going to need somebody here to help him today, and he has to tell Marlene he won’t be there this morning. His hands are so stiff it hurts to hold the phone, and he eventually just leaves it lying flat and types out _Ow_.

 

Marlene knows what it means, and he takes comfort in that, and lies in the dark trying and failing to keep from crying. He sees the little flashing light, the bolded messages he hasn’t read yet from Sirius. He wants to read them, he wants to reply, but… He shudders out a huff, rolls over and tries to ride it out.  
  
Dory and Marlene have keys, and a couple of hours later, Dorcas has let herself in and is calling for him. He calls hoarsely back to her from his bed, a rush of relief and affection for his friends. Dorcas helps him up out of bed, helps him get his medication and tea and stubbornly makes him eat at least a slice of bread, helps him dress (loose clothes, sweats, no buttons, his fingers can’t handle it) and bundles him up in his down comforter on the couch.

 

Once she’s sure that Remus is as good as he’s going to get for now, netflix playing on his laptop well within his reach, water and painkillers (bottles both open) on the end table, she goes to help Marlene at the bakery promising one of them will stop in at lunch. Remus is so glad to have friends like his friends. His mom calls him, and he manages clumsily to swipe and answer. She always seems to know when he’s not okay. He assures her she doesn’t need to come down, that Dory just left, and he’ll keep her updated on how he’s doing. He hands up, and sees the little flashing light meaning he has unread messages. He feels guilty.

 

Stiffly, slowly, he manages to unlock his phone and reply to Sirius.  
_thank you_

_u dont need 2 see me lke this tho_

 

He’s not gonna do any better than this, and so he sends it, then curls up in the corner of his couch and resigns himself to marathoning Friends for the rest of the day.

 

Marlene comes by at lunch and helps him back and forth to the bathroom, gets him cold water and a heat pack, scolds him for a good fifteen minutes, then urges him to eat soup and bread. His fever is staying steady so it doesn’t worry him, his pain killers help but make him sleepy, and by the time Marlene leaves he’s asleep. He wakes up just as its starting to get dark, unsure if he’s feeling better or just more well rested. His phone is flashing again.

 

**Padfoot missed you when we walked past the bakery today**

**Tried to stop to go in  
Seemed very confused about where his new best friend was**

 

Remus experimentally tries to hold his phone, finds it aches, but it’s not so hard as it was  
_Oh no  
plz bring him soon so that i can remedy this_

_feeling less awful i think_

 

 **I’m glad**  
**I maybe might have missed you too**  
 **Maybe**

_Really?_  
_I maybe might have missed you_  
 _I maybe might kinda still miss you_

 

 **Do you think maybe we shouldn’t miss each other already?**  
  
_Maybe but what are we gonna do about it now_

 

 **Well**  
**I um**  
 **maybe just left work**

**and there’s this really great sandwich place about a block from my flat**

Remus considers for a moment, staring into space, his heart fluttering happily. But… he balks a little. He has a butterfly shaped, angry red flush across his face, he’s wearing his softest knockaround clothes, and all he’s done today is lay on the couch and watch Friends. He can barely walk without assistance, and he can barely curl his fingers properly around his phone. Does he _really_ want Sirius to see him like this?  
  
But… he knows that he wants to date Sirius, he figured that out pretty quick during the hours they spent outside the bakery. And Remus doesn’t do flings, not now, and so if he dates Sirius he’s hopefully going to go into it with the intention of sticking with it. Sirius is going to see him like this eventually, and Remus needs to know that he’s going to stick with him through it.  
  
He makes a deal with himself, if he can make it into his bedroom on his own and change into something less horrifically embarrassing, he’ll let Sirius bring him dinner. It’s slow and painful going, but Remus manages to get into his room, change from his tattered sweatshirt and pants into a nicer (though a little less comfy) pair, and a very old Jurassic Park tee-shirt that he loves quite a lot, because it’s so soft it’s nearly transparent, and it fits his shoulders very nicely.

 

He almost automatically puts on a sweater, then considers. Sirius has already seen all his scars, and the way he spoke about them… His flat is warm and cozy already. He puts the sweater down on his bed, stiffly, slowly limping back into the living room to once more take his place in his blanket nest.  
  
He takes a deep breath, and picks up his phone

_Okay  
on one condition_

 

Sirius texts him back nearly instantly, and Remus smiles, imagining him waiting eagerly with his phone in his hand.   
  
**What condition?**

 

_this time we call it a date_

 

Remus can’t believe his own bravery, and he spends the seconds waiting for a reply half hidden in a cocoon of his blanket.

 

 **Deal!**  
  
Remus’ smile blooms across his face and he momentarily buries his face in his hands. His heart is thumping and momentarily his pain takes a back burner. He can’t believe he just did that, and he can’t believe it just _worked_. His phone buzzes again, but it’s Marlene.  
  
“Just left, me and Dory’ll be there in about 20”  
  
_NO  
i mean um  
i’m okay, and um I maybe  
have a date with Tattoo Boy  
  
“_ YOU WHAT”  
  
_HE’S BRINGING DINNER TO MY FLAT???  
  
_ “HOW DID THIS HAPPEN”  
  
_HE OFFERED AND HE’S REALLY SWEET_  
  
“I EXPECT A WORD FOR WORD RETELLING FIRST THING TOMORROW”  
  
_NO. But i’ll call you as soon as he leaves._  
  
“Good enough”  
  
Remus is buzzing, but still too achey to do much, so he just sort of has to deal with it and wait impatiently in his little blanket nest in the couch corner. Sirius texts him a few more times, asking him questions; his address, about what he wants to eat, and if Remus needs anything else.  
  
It seems to take forever, but when Sirius knocks on his door Remus feels like he hasn’t had enough time at all. His stomach flips with excitement and nerves, and he scrambles to get up, trying to move too fast for his stiff and painful body. He winces, sways for a moment and takes a deep breath, “Just a sec!”

 

He realizes it takes him longer than most people to make it the short distance to his door, but he hopes that Sirius understands. He opens the door and shyly ducks his head a little, smiling sheepishly at Sirius in the doorway. “hey”  
  
“hey” Sirius smiles at him, looking equally (adorably) sheepish, his hair is back in a bun again today, and his normal leather jacket has been replaced with an oversized knitted sweater that falls all the way to his knees and he looks so _cozy_ Remus just wants to lean into him.  
  
He doesn’t (Maybe later), and steps back out of his way to let him come in, nervously fiddling with the hem of his tee-shirt. Sirius follows him into the den, bag of takeout in his hand, and has to remind himself firmly he isn’t here to dote on Remus. Remus probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but Sirius just thinks he looks so tired and he’s moving slow and shaky… Sirius just kinda wants to gather him up and

protect him.

 

“Sorry I couldn’t really clean up,” Remus tells him, willing himself to stop fidgeting so anxiously. Sirius doesn’t seem to mind very much anyway, he’s barely looked away from Remus since he got here. You can’t really blame him, honestly, Sirius isn’t blind and he definitely notices the soft, clinging way the old tee-shirt sits on him.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sirius assures him, and then silently urges Remus to come sit with him on the couch, because Remus is shaky on his feet. Grateful, Remus takes his blanket nest in the corner, and Sirius sits on the opposite side from him, his body turned in to face him. Remus turns in to face him, absentmindedly twisting his hands in the fabric of the blankets pooled around his lap, he’s full of shy nerves and the little bit of activity has him tired and aching again, but he can’t keep the smile off his face.  
  
“How are you feeling?” Sirius asks him, opening the big brown paper bag with their dinner inside it, and Remus shrugs a little, reluctant to answer honestly. “Come on, I know you don’t feel good, you don’t have to lie.”  
  
Remus’ mouth turns up at the corner and he accepts the paper wrapped sandwich offered to him, “Not good,” He tells him, shrugging, peeling the paper off with stiff fingers, “I hurt all over, especially in all the places where i’m supposed to bend. My head hurts and this stupid fever won’t break. But uh,” He looks up, sheepish but grinning and meets Sirius’ eyes, “I’m starting to feel better.”  
  
Sirius turns a little pink and looks down, smiling down at his hands, unwrapping his own food. “I’m sorry you feel so bad, but i’m glad that you feel good enough to see me.”  

 

“Hey, free food,” Remus jokes, but he slides his leg forward until the toes of one foot just barely rest against Sirius’ calf and meets his eyes. Sirius smiles at him, all shy delight. Remus only manages to eat half the sandwich Sirius brought him, but it’s the most he’s eaten since yesterday, and he’s satisfied with that. Somehow, in between conversation and television, they keep sliding just that little bit closer. Remus talks about Marlene and how long they’ve been friends, Remus’ toes tucked under Sirius’ thigh, Sirius tells him about him and Andromeda being The Gay Cousins and how he’s not close with the rest of his family, their shoulders brush, Remus talks about his single mother and how if he doesn’t call her every single day she assumes he has died and calls him in a panic every few days, Sirius clears his throat, “Could, I- Maybe-” and then Sirius is holding his hand, the pad of his thumb brushing back and forth over his knuckles, and Remus must have stars in his eyes.

 

Sirius tells him about Harry trying to learn new words, Remus talks potential recipes. The conversation spins out, mundane but content, and whenever silence happens to fall it’s contented. It doesn’t scream to be filled, Remus doesn’t mind having silent spaces with Sirius, he’s just glad they’re together. Before he knows it, he gives in to the desire to lean into him. Sirius is shorter than he is, but it works out fine anyway, the distance between them on the couch means that when he leans over he can comfortably tuck his head against Sirius’ shoulder, under his chin.  

 

Sirius puts an arm around him, and eventually, in small increments they end up with Sirius nestled in the corner of the couch with Remus lying between his legs, head on his chest. Sirius is absentmindedly running the tips of his fingers through Remus’ hair, and Remus is lazily twirling a strand of Sirius’ around one finger. Remus’ heart is still racing, thumping steadily against his ribs, and he can hear Sirius’ beating loudly under his ear, glad to know that Sirius’ nerves are strung out just like his. But he sighs his contentment, blushing as he nuzzles against Sirius’ shoulder and closes his eyes.

  
“You know,” he murmurs after a moment, voice muffled and sleepy, Sirius makes a questioning hum, and Remus’ stomach flips in the best way when he realizes Sirius’ mouth is gently pressed to the top of his head “I think this is the best first date i’ve ever had.” He can feel Sirius smile and he turns just a tiny bit to hide his own smile against his shoulder.  
  
“yeah?” Sirius asks him softly, and Remus nods, “Me too.” Remus never wants him to go home, he never wants to have to get up, he wants to lay here like this and listen to Sirius’ heart beat strong and steady under his ear.  
  
Sirius has to wake him up reluctantly an hour later, running his hand up and down his back and softly calling his name. Remus blushes, embarrassed that he fell asleep on him like that, but it isn’t much of an embarrassment. Especially not because Sirius is looking at him so soft and warm and affectionate when he looks up at him. _oh man_ is Remus ever gone. He rubs his eyes and stiffly sits up, “I’m sorry,” Sirius says softly, sitting up with him in the dark living room. They’re pressed close into each others space, and Sirius gently bumps his forehead against Remus’ temple, nearly whispering as if they aren’t the only two in the room. “I would stay if I could, I want to, but Andromeda is watching Harry and I promised her I’d be back by midnight. I mean, it’s already after midnight, but--”  
  
“Oh no, is it? I’m sorry I fell asleep! Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” He turns just a little, and now their foreheads are touching and they smile at each other. Remus feels sixteen again, stupid and giddy with affection. He could kiss Sirius, Sirius could kiss him, but neither of them do they just smile at each other sweetly and thats even better.  
  
“I fell asleep, too,” Sirius tells him sheepishly, and Remus laughs, dropping his head to Sirius’ shoulder.  
  
“How exciting, sleeping together on the first date.” Sirius barks a soft laugh into Remus’ hair, and Remus sighs happily. The knuckles of Sirius’ fingers gently slide up and down Remus’ forearm, he seems disinclined to move from their warm little nest on Remus’ couch. But he knows that he has to, he has work in the morning, and he’s got to go look after his godson. He sighs heavily, slides his arms back around Remus to hold him for just another minute.  
  
“I have to go,” He says reluctantly, and Remus sighs and nods, gingerly disentangling himself from Sirius and their blanket. he’s aching and sore again, but it hardly gets to him, even if he does move stiff and slow with Sirius to the door. One there, Sirius turns to face him, and they stand close, fingers tangled together.  
  
“Can we do this again?” Remus asks him sheepishly, and Sirius almost lights up at the suggestion, “Maybe we can actually go out next time”  
  
“yeah” Sirius says a little breathlessly, sliding a little closer to Remus, “yeah, definitely. Soon.” A little closer, and he leans up and kisses Remus gently at the corner of his mouth. Remus’s heart races and he feels his face go red, but he’s smiling in what he feels like is a very dopey way. “Bye, Remus. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” He says a little breathlessly as Sirius reluctantly steps out the door to his flat, looking over his shoulder and slowly letting his hand slip out of Remus, “bye, Sirius, be careful.”  
  
Once Sirius is out of sight, Remus closes his door and locks up, standing in the dark for a moment full of butterflies with a dopey smile on his face. He sighs to the darkness, limps back through his living room and gets his phone and blanket and heads straight for his bed. He’s still feverish and painful, and definitely ready for more sleep.  
  
He dials Marlene, and she picks up before the second ring, right as he flops down into his bed in a cocoon of his comforter.  
  
“Tell me everything,” She says at once, foregoing a traditional hello, and he smiles and sighs dreamily.  
  
“ _oh man_. He’s just. He’s so pretty and sweet and funny, and he brought me the best sandwich, and we watched The X-Files for like three hours and he _held my hand_ “  
  
“Oh my god”  
  
“No wait it gets even better  just. hang on. He’s _so cute_ and he loves his godson so much? He talks about him all the time. And I-- I got to lie on him? with my head on his chest and I could hear his heart beating and I _fell asleep. and he fell asleep_. and he’s...so quiet, and soft and gentle with me and he _kissed me goodnight_ and.” He heaves another sigh in lieu of words  
  
“Wow. Wow. On me and Dory’s first date we got fast food and snuck into a movie and got tossed out of the cinema.”  
  
“In my defense” Dorcas says in the background, voice muffled like she might have her face pressed against her girlfriends shoulder, “we didn’t decide until later that it was a date.”  
  
Remus laughs, and then says, “I’m seeing him again. He wants to see me again.”  
  
“See, Remus?” Marlene asks him, he can hear her smiling, “Sometimes you get lucky.”  
  
“yeah,” he agrees, rubs his tired face, “Goodnight, Marly. Love you, i’ll call you in the morning if I need some help, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” She agrees, “Goodnight Remus.”  
  
Remus hangs up his phone, and he burrows into his blanket. He can smell Sirius’ faint cologne, and he’s just about to fall asleep when his phone buzzes. He grabs it eagerly, blinking bleary eyes.  
**Got home fine**  
**Can’t wait to see you again**  
  
Remus smiles like a dope, tries to think about what to say  
_I’m so glad i met you_  is what he settles for, and he falls asleep smiling before Sirius can text him back.


	4. Limerence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius visits Remus in the bakery. Rather pointless schmoop to make up for my absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took me such a long time, I know I promised weekly updates, but I had a bunch of drama go down, and then finals week and holidays. I just hadn't been feeling it on top of everything, but I finally think I got my ass in gear. This chapter was like pulling teeth though! But I have an Idea for the next one, so if I can knock it out, there'll be a double update tonight! I'll try, for the new year!

Over the next couple of days, Sirius and Remus spend a lot of time texting, but they don’t get to see each other again. Remus’ flare up fades out, and on Tuesday he goes back into work feeling almost good as new, as close to new as he’s ever gonna get anyway. He and Marlene are on either side of the work table back in the kitchen, flour covered aprons, and the radio is up loud so Marlene can hear it while they rhythmically braid challah and sing at each other, both terribly off key.  He’s in a good mood, still riding the high from his date with Sirius and the next two days of friendly banter and sappy conversation.  

 

_i’m getting my tattoo tomorrow_ he signs to Marlene when they finish the day’s challah loaves and pause before brushing them with egg wash, he smiles at her, a little nervous, a little excited.   
  
_where_? She signs, smiling back at him, and he frowns, his brows coming together

 

_ Sirius’ shop  _ She bursts out laughing, and Remus gets that that is not what she meant and turns pink. 

_ Shut up!  _ He signs at her repeatedly until she finally catches her breath, but he’s smiling still.  _ Here _ he signs, then touches the side of his neck  _ Flower _ and Marlene nods. She tells him she thinks it’ll look lovely, and then they get back to work. Once the challah is in, Marlene goes to set up the display cases, and Remus stays in the kitchen to bake more. The radio is up loud, and there’s a pop song on he knows but doesn’t know the name of, and he’s singing along loudly while tossing the filling for galettes in a big mixing bowl. 

 

Up in the shop part of the bakery, Marlene is putting bagels and loaves of bread into baskets, when movement catches her eye and she looks up. She sees the Tattoo Boy, sheepishly waving at her, and he holds up a bag of takeout from the diner up the street. She smiles at him and goes around the counter to open the door, she turns her hearing aids on as she does it. “hello!” She greets, holding out a hand for Sirius to shake, which he gladly does. He hasn’t got the dog or the baby this morning, she notes, “You’re Sirius, then? Remus doesn’t ever shut up about you.”   
  
Sirius turns a little pink, but if the lovesick look in his eyes is any indication, she bets Sirius never shuts up about him either. Good, then Remus is just the right level of in over his head. “You’re Marlene,” He says, and he speaks a little loudly, but not very slowly, and enunciates. He manages to do it in a way that isn’t patronizing, but recognizes that she’s deaf, and even with the hearing aids things can run together, “Remus warned me you might try to intimidate me, but I wanted to bring him breakfast anyway.

  
“Brave of you” Marlene laughs, and Sirius grins crookedly at her,    
  
“Yeah, I know, i’m very noble.” But then he adds, a little softer and a lot more genuine, “He’d be worth it even if you did wanna scare me.”   
  
“Just for that, I won’t bother trying to scare you. Go on in the kitchen, he’s back there somewhere.”

 

Sirius thanks her, and goes through the door she pointed to. He pauses there, a dopey smile stretching across his face. Remus is rapidly rolling out circles of dough, as soon as he finishes one, he slides it to the side to do another, but he isn’t looking at the door. He’s swaying side to side exaggeratedly, singing along (terribly off key, Sirius notes) to some bouncy pop song on the radio. Sirius thinks he might suddenly know what falling in love feels like, just a little. He takes a moment to watch, and to remember it.    
  
“Hey, Marls--” Remus starts, already beginning to sign, then looks up, clearly mistaking the movement at the corner of his vision for his friend, and starts. His face turns very red, and he freezes for a minute, then quickly turns the volume on the radio way down, dusting his floury hands off on his apron. “Sirius!” He manages to stammer, “What are you doing here?”   
  
Sirius chuckles warmly at him, coming further into the kitchen now, and he  _ kisses Remus square on the mouth  _ and  _ wow _ Remus’ brain goes offline for a second. He can feel himself smiling like a dork, and he knows his face is red, but Sirius’ is too so thats okay. “I brought you breakfast,” Sirius tells him, and Remus’ eyes go bright and warm. “You told me you almost always end up eating baked goods for breakfast and honestly, Remus, that can’t be healthy.”   
  
“Well, in my defense, what have I got to lose?” Remus quips, and Sirius laughs, which turns Remus’ stomach into butterflies. He wants to spend his whole life doing nothing but making Sirius laugh. “But thank you, just let me finish these galettes alright? Sit, you can eat, i’ll be done in a few minutes.”   
  
Sirius drags a stool over to the work counter and sits down while Remus returns to rolling out circles of dough. Something softer is on the radio now, and he hums along to it absentmindedly, mechanically spinning out oblong circles and sliding them to one side. Sirius watches him work, content to be quiet which is a rare event for Sirius Black, but he could sit and watch Remus work for hours and be happy about it. Remus’ expression is soft and content, a tiny crease of concentration between his eyebrows, a low hum in his throat and flour in the ends of his hair. 

 

He takes each circle of dough and piles filling into the middle, half what looks like peaches and ginger, and the other half a mix of berries and cream cheese. Smoothly, he takes each outer edge and folds it over, spinning it as he does on the floured surface of the table, pinching the edges to make neat little folds. He brushes the crust of the peach and ginger ones with egg wash and cinnamon sugar, the berry ones with sugar glaze and puts them all neatly on racks to push into the oven. Sirius gets to watch the muscles and blades of his shoulders play under his tee-shirt, but tries not to think about that too much.

 

Remus comes back to sit with him, smiling a little shyly and dusting his hands off on his apron as he does. “Thank you for bringing me breakfast, Sirius, you didn’t have to do that.” but he doesn’t hesitate to take the take out container which is piled high with hashbrowns and triangles of waffles.     
  
“Yeah, well, it was an excuse to get to come and see you,” Sirius admits, partially because it’s true, but also partially because it makes Remus’ ears turn pink and he can’t get enough of doing that. 

 

They eat their breakfast with companionable conversation, facing each other with their feet dangling, bumping against one another. Sirius laughs when Remus smothers his waffles in the leftover berry and cream mixture, and snatches a piece for himself to Remus’ faux indignation. Remus feeds him the next peice. 

 

“Remus!” Remus turns to see Dorcas coming into the kitchen, looking up to mischief, “Marly told me your Tattoo Boy was here--” Sirius leans over to peer around Remus, his expression puzzled.    
  
“Dory? This is the bakery you work at?”   
  
“ _ you’re _ Remus’ tattoo boy?”

Sirius grins at Remus, who goes a little pink, “Is that what you guys are calling me?”   
  
“How do you two know each other?” Remus asks curiously, and Marlene comes in and he turns and looks at her, raises his voice a little, “Did you know that Marlene and Sirius know each other?”   
  
“Wait-- Is he the friend from art school?” Marlene asks Dorcas who nods, “I should have figured, I mean, Sirius isn’t a very common name. You just never told me he was a tattoo artist”   
  
Dory shrugs, “It never came up.” She looks at them for a second, almost like sizing them up, and then just nods, seemingly pleased. “Can I have some hashbrowns?” She asks bluntly, coming to sit across from Remus. He slides her his plate, since he’s full, and he isn’t really that surprised that they never found out. Dory doesn’t really talk about herself that much, and sometimes has trouble making connections like this on her own. They’re used to it.   
  
“I can’t believe you guys know each other,” Remus murmurs, looks at Sirius who shrugs, “Well, at least I know you’ll get along with my friends. Marly did you need something?”   
  
“Oh, shoot, yes!” 

 

Remus sorts out the work issue, looking for an alternative to cupcakes for a brunch on pretty short notice and settles on profiteroles. Today is the day Marlene and Dory go out for lunch, so Dory settles into a quiet corner of the bakery to braid challah dough peace.    
  
Left alone, while Marlene goes to man the front of the shop, Sirius and Remus turn back to one another again, feet brushing lightly as they sway.

  
“So, do you need to leave soon, for work?” Remus asks him, sounding reluctant. Sirius slides his hand gently down Remus’ forearm, fiddles with the band of his watch, then fits their hands together, smiling.    
  
“I’m off today, I thought i’d spend a little time with you. I’m keeping you from working, though, so--I can go if you want.”   
  
“I definitely do not want.” Remus tells him matter of factly, rubbing his thumb over Sirius’ knuckles, “As long as you don’t mind me working, I don’t mind you being here.”   
  
“I don’t mind. So long as you’re here.”    
  
So Sirius spends his time there, watching Remus work. Remus talks to him, telling him what he’s doing as he makes choux paste, or just generally chatting, but eventually he’s mostly silent. He hums softly to himself, making neat little swirls of dough on parchment lined baking sheets, almost perfectly uniform in size.  Sirius helps him slide the sheets, fifty little swirling piles of dough all told, into the oven, and then Remus hauls out the galettes from earlier to dust with powdered sugar, and puts most of them into the display case. He keeps one of them for Sirius and him to eat, and when Sirius kisses him goodbye in the alley against the back door he tastes like peaches and candied ginger.


End file.
